


The 'Happiest' Time of the Year

by CinnaAtHeart



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-07 22:59:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5473667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnaAtHeart/pseuds/CinnaAtHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not that Steve hates Christmas, it's just that it's not exactly a happy time for him.<br/>Darcy understands the sentiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The 'Happiest' Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imogen_Penn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imogen_Penn/gifts).



> Written for the massively talented Imogen_Penn for the Steve/Darcy Christmas Fic exchange! I adore your fics, so I hope you enjoy; although there is like, WAY more angst in this than I'd originally intended, so I'm REALLY sorry for that.  
> (Like geez, Cinna, just layer the angst onto people the day before Christmas why don't you)

She doesn't know why she goes up to the common room.

It’s late, and usually when she wakes from a nightmare with the hankering for a hot chocolate, she’d just use the kitchen in her living quarters. No use in travelling further than she needs to when her mind is replaying the Destroyer wreaking havoc in New Mexico, or reality falling apart in London. But tonight she feels restless, so she lets her weary feet guide her upwards, to the communal area where they all share the occasional meal. Chances are there’ll be someone awake. They all have things that keep them up at night. Even Thor.

Jarvis takes her up without comment, and Darcy’s grateful. Her eyelids feel like sandpaper and there’s a tightness in her chest that’s telling her she’s not had nearly enough sleep to engage in casual banter with a sentient AI capable of _sass._

She sighs at the sight when the doors open. She’d almost forgotten about that.

It’s Christmas soon. The living area spouts this fact loud and clear, decked in tasteful fairy lights and tinsel and a frankly obscenely large Christmas tree. On the day everything had gone up, Pepper had put candy canes on every branch; between Thor and Clint, they’d disappeared within 24 hours.

Darcy may adore this time of year, but she isn’t feeling in much of a Christmas mood right now.

She sighs again and makes over to the kitchen, trying not to look too long at the decorations. She pulls out ingredients on autopilot, going through the motions without really registering what she’s doing. By the time she does, it’s too late to do anything about the fact that she’s made enough for two cups- the inevitable result of making hot chocolate for her and Jane out in the desert. She debates throwing the marshmallows in and drinking it straight out of the saucepan, but it’s a little too uncivilised, even for Darcy.

She almost drops both cups when she walks around the sofas and notices Steve.

As it is, she shrieks, startling both herself and Steve. He tears his gaze away from the window, expression flitting from pensive to alarmed to tired.

He smiles, “Darcy.”

“I- uh- sorry,” she stutters, caught out at the sight of him. “I didn’t notice you.”

He huffs a laugh and settles back into the couch, “I figured. I didn’t notice you either.”

She laughs nervously, “Both oblivious then. Good thing I made too much hot chocolate.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to the mugs she’s still miraculously holding. Darcy chooses to ignore the small puddles she’s left on the floor- one of the cleaning bots will deal with it. “Hot Chocolate?”

She grins at the cautiously hopeful tone and moves forward to sit down beside him, “I hope you like marshmallows in it.”

“Oh! I couldn’t-”

“Steve, shut up and take the damn drink. I made too much, anyway.”

He takes the cup from her offered hand, fingers brushing against hers. His skin is warm. “Thank-you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He takes a cautious sip, and hums in pleasure. Darcy smiles. They sit in silence for a time, alternating between drinking and staring out at the city. The lights of the Christmas tree and the fairy lights reflecting on the glass make the room feel cosier than it really is; usually there’s far too many windows and pale, sleek furniture to reach that effect.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Steve asks eventually, cocoa all but gone. Darcy stares into her dregs.

“Nightmares.”

He glances over, offering her a bland smile. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Do you?”

He grimaces and skulls the last of his drink, smacking his lips comically. Her lips quirk. “Not really.”

Darcy takes his cup from his hands and leans forward, resting their mugs on the floor. Steve hums a thanks as she settles back into the sofa, slouching down in a way that’s probably not the most flattering. She doesn’t care; she and Steve are bros.

“So, Christmas,” she says, trying to make small talk. She doesn’t quite want to leave yet.

“Mm. The year’s gone so quick. I don’t think it ever went this fast in the forties.”

Her lips twitch, “You might be showing your age there, old man.”

He elbows her as she snickers, “Oh, to be young and beautiful again.”

“Too true; has anyone ever told you you don’t age well? Too many perfect teeth.”

“I think Tony may have made a comment or two.”

She huffs a laugh, “He can’t really let go of not being the prettiest, can he.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Pepper did a nice job with the tree.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never had a tree that big before.”

He sighs, “Neither.”

“How do you think they got the angel up there?”

Steve looks upwards; it’s not so much an angel as it is a figure of Iron Man with an unnecessary pair of sequined wings, but they all referred to it as one and pretended there was nothing odd about it- mostly to get on Stark’s nerves. “Tony put on his suit. Pepper wasn’t pleased.”

Darcy snorts; she’s a little disappointed she missed that. They fall silent again. Darcy takes to listening to the steady push and pull of Steve’s breathing.It’s almost enough to lull her back to–

“It’s my second Christmas.” He blurts out suddenly. Darcy starts slightly, and turns to look at the man; his eyes are glued to the shimmering lights on the tree. “I thought- I thought it would get easier, you know? I thought I’d get over it – I’ve had a whole year- but-” he breaks off, swallowing audibly. He looks close to crying.

Darcy sighs and curls up into him, facing the tree too so he doesn’t have to look at her. He stiffens at the contact, before slowly relaxing, raising an arm to wrap around her and pull her in tight. She basks for a moment in the heat his body throws.

“Normally- normally I’m okay. It’s not that hard to just… push everything back. Compartmentalise. There are things to do, people to see. Some things are familiar, but not enough to make me think back too far. But Christmas-” he breathes out, long and shaky. Darcy shuffles a little to make herself more comfortable and he lets her, tilting his body to hold her better.

“Christmas is too familiar. It’s something that’s always been around, to various effect. Last year was awful. I couldn’t go anywhere without seeing something reminding me of _then_. I ran away. Found a cabin in the wilds and stayed there almost all of December, just to escape it.”

 Darcy twines her hand over his, bringing it up to press a soft kiss to their fingers. He squeezes softly in response, but she stays quiet; like everything Steve Rogers does, he’ll speak in his own time. And she has a feeling he wants to get this off his chest.

“It feels like- like my world’s been split into then- Before- and Now. Before the war. Before the serum, or Peggy and Bucky-” he stops. This close she can hear his teeth clench. “It’s all so… distant. Like it was another life. Like somehow Steve Rogers died in that vita ray chamber in Brooklyn, and Captain America took his place- his name. And I can ignore that for the most part, but then along comes Christmas; a yearly anniversary here to remind me of everything Steve Rogers lost.  I start thinking about what I could have had, after the war- or _worse_ \- what I _used_ to have, and every carol or gaudy decoration is just a reminder.”

He huffs a bitter laugh, “And sure- that time of year always kind of sucked anyway- it was cold and I was always half a foot in the grave around that time of year, but at least _we_ had that. At least we had each other.”

 _But not anymore_ , comes the unspoken sentence that finishes his speech. Darcy wishes she had a blanket she could wrap them in; midnight confessions are always easier with the security of a blanket.

“When I was eighteen,” she tells him, “mid December, I lost my dad. He was gonna turn fifty-five in three days. We’d been hoping he’d hold out until after Christmas. And it sucked- it really did. For a long time.” Steve squeezes her fingers lightly. “For years, we all hated Christmas- could barely stand the thought of celebrating when we knew he wouldn’t be there.”

She sighs heavily, eyes fixed firmly on the shivering lights of the tree, “It sucked- _Christmas_ sucked, because every time it came around we were reminded of what we’d lost. I honestly didn’t expect to ever celebrate it again.”

Steve makes a soft noise at the back of his throat, and points at her obviously themed sweater, thrown over the top of her pyjamas. She snorts and shrugs, “Eventually, my mother decided Dad wouldn’t want us to spend the holidays in mourning. Our Christmases aren’t big anymore, but they’re happy.

“So I get it- I do. And my loss isn’t as huge or complete as yours, but I can empathise, Steve. I understand.”

“How did you bear it, going back after all that time?”

Darcy wraps her other hand around his, as though trying to send him as much comfort as she can without making him uncomfortable, “I know it sounds cliché, but time really does help. It doesn’t make it better- doesn’t make the thought hurt any less- but it does make it easier to bear.”

Steve says nothing- just breathes into her hair and moves so he can wrap himself around her, holding Darcy like a giant teddy bear. Something deep inside her aches at the contact, but she pushes it away. Ignores it for another, happier day.

“I know-” she halts, wondering if she really has the right to speak. But they’re friends- _good_ friends- and she feels like this is a truth that needs to be aired out- especially to a man who lives in a tower full of superheroes who keep their weaknesses close and secret. “I know you’re hurting. And I know that it feels like nothing will ever be the same, or improve. But I promise you, it will. The people in this tower, Steve; they all love you- even Tony.”

He chuckles wetly against the back of her head and Darcy breathes a mental sigh of relief. “And none of us want you to have to deal with your loss alone. We’re here for you, if you’ll have us.”

“Thanks Darcy,” Steve chokes out, voice breaking halfway though. He squeezes her a little tighter, and Darcy lets him have his moment. Lets him sniffle back his tears and hold her as if she means more to him than just a friend.

“Thanks,” he murmurs again, when he’s settled and the grip around her waist loosens to a more comfortable pressure. He makes no move to leave- Darcy’s grateful. “I-”

“It’s okay,” she tells him softly, “I’m here for you. Always.”

He’s silent for a long moment, the air growing heavy between them. Finally, he breathes out slowly, hot air tickling her scalp. “I know. I’m glad to have met you, Darcy.” That unwelcome _something_ flutters in her chest at the confession, “And I’m sorry- about your dad. I know what it’s like to lost a parent too.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agrees. She bites her lip, a thought occurring to her.

“Come with me,” she blurts out, still only turning the idea over in her head. Christ, she could kick herself.

“Pardon?”

_Well you’ve done it now, Darcy. Now you’ve got to commit._

“Come with me- if you wanted, you’re welcome to come with me for Christmas. It’s nothing big!” she backtracks when Steve seems to grow tense behind her, “It’s only ever my mom, brother and my auntie and uncle. And these days we do things a little different, but there’s always room for one more. But I get it if you wanted to be alone again, or spend it here at the Tower. It’s just that I know Tony wanted to make a really big thing of it this year, and I know _I_ couldn’t bear it. Thought maybe you’d be the same.”

“Darce, you can’t just- I wouldn’t-”

“You wouldn’t be imposing, Steve. My family wouldn’t care. They’d welcome you with open arms. Probably only ask for _one_ embarrassing story about me.”

He huffs a laugh into her hair, “You’re one of a kind, Darcy Lewis.”

“I know.” She twists her head- the first eye contact she’s had with the man since the start of their conversation, “But really, you’re welcome to. I know you’d only know me there, but really, I’m just a younger version of my Ma, and my uncle is like a more put together Clint.”

He’s goes quiet again, going pensive. In the dim light, his eyes look pale and washed out and _tired._ “Can I think about it?”

She nods quickly, swallowing nervously. “Course.”

He smiles at her; only a little thing, but her heart swells at the sight, “Sometimes I think you’re too generous for your own good.”

She’s grateful for the dim light that hides her flush at his words. “Pish,” she tells him, “I only do what anyone’d do.”

Steve shakes his head, “There are lots of people who wouldn’t let go of a quarter of the things you offer us.”

“And there are plenty more who’d do the same, or more.”

He shrugs, “True. But they’re not here.” She turns back to the windows, her face burning. Hesitantly, as if only just realising their inescapableproximity, Steve hums and smooths the soft woollen fabric of her sleeves. “You’re a good egg, Darcy. A good friend.”

She bites her lip. Nods a little without really meaning to. Steve’s arms are starting to feel a little like warm but dead weights wrapped around her middle, but she can’t bring herself to move away.

“Yeah,” she says eventually, hoping she doesn’t come off as strained as she feels, “You too.”

( _God_ , but she’s really hoping this Christmas thing isn’t going to turn out a disaster.)  

**Author's Note:**

> *Coughs* uh. Like I said... way more angsty than I'd intended. Stupid muse. So uh... sorry, about that.
> 
> *Brightens* but Merry Christmas! I hope you day's filled with starshine and rainbows!


End file.
